Handholding :'Thank You' OneShot:
by gosakurago
Summary: Takes place after season one That time of the year has come again, a day that Robin dreads with every fiber of his being. Thankfully, Batgirl is always there to hold his hand through these tough times... This is a 'thank you' fic that my readers of Long Nights voted on.


**A/N: **Hey guys! So, if you didn't already know, this one-shot is a 'thank you' present to my incredibly amazing readers for reaching 100 reviews on my other fanfic _**Long Nights**_. They all took a vote on the pairing, and Dick/Babs was the overwhelming winner. I'm sorry it took so long, I just wasn't satisfied with it. I'm personally not a _huge_ fan of this pairing, so it was a little harder to write, but I hope you'll at least enjoy my interpretation of their romantic relationship. So, enjoy :)

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The air was cold, but that was no surprise; it always had a bone-chilling factor to it around this time of the year. Dick Grayson shivered in the brisk winter breeze and buried his face deeper into the collar of his down jacket. Continuing his trek across the flat field of grass, he rubbed his bare hands together before shoving them back in his coat pockets.

Just like every year, he hadn't slept that night. Batman gave him the night off from the Team, but Dick never took _this_ night off. Instead, he took a triple shift, patrolling the streets of Gotham and devoting himself to his job as Robin for ten hours straight. It was better than trying to sleep, that was for sure. The old nightmares that had haunted him for a better part of a year always returned, and once they started, they didn't stop. So here he was, for the fourth year in a row, walking under the smog-filled sky on a cold winter morning before the sun had even risen. It was probably five or six in the morning, but it didn't matter. Dick never bothered to check the time, especially not today.

The night was unusually quiet, interrupted only by the distant road noise and the crunch of the Boy Wonder's shoes on the early morning frost that coated the grass. Going by rooftop would have been faster, but he just wanted to take his time today. What he had to do next never really got any easier, so he wasn't exactly in any rush to get there. But he couldn't procrastinate forever, and before long, he found himself making his way up the big hill towards the Wayne family's private cemetery.

The cemetery was notably small. Dick had always figured that each generation only had one or two children, so the Wayne family tree never spread out too far. But he never really gave it much thought; after all, he never came here to visit the grave of a Wayne.

Lost in thought, Dick never even noticed the entrance gate as he passed through, and before he knew it, he had hiked up the hill and come to a standstill in front of a single large gravestone. His expression was blank as he carefully studied the etchings on the cement's cold surface. There was no real purpose in staring at it, though; the image of John and Mary Grayson's gravestone had been engraved in their son's mind for years. Kneeling to the ground in front of the carved stone, Dick unzipped his jacket just enough to pull out a single flower that he had tucked away to protect it from the cold, and then proceeded to lay it across the base of the stone.

"Hey, Mom. Hey, Dad. It's been awhile." _Yep, definitely not getting any easier._ Dick never knew what to say. He was ok with _visiting_ the grave, but not so much with _talking_ to it. But Alfred pushed him to do this every year, so here he was.

"So… um… I'm doing good. Still living with Bruce. And… fighting crime... with Bruce… And, yeah."

_Come on, I've been swinging from ropes five stories off the ground since before I could even walk! If I can do that, I can do this._ This wasn't the first time Dick had had this conversation with himself. The argument had become a sort of confidence booster for him to fall back on whenever he felt doubtful in his abilities. And usually, it worked. Super hard exams, extra strenuous training, helping Bruce host his 'little' parties; all of those and more seemed so simple, so _achievable_, when he told himself that one simple sentence. But _this_? No, this was twenty times harder than swinging over a den of hungry lions or somersaulting off the ledge of a skyscraper.

"I… um…" _Ok, guess I'm just gonna have to resort to the 'stream of consciousness' technique._ "Honestly, Mom, Dad, I don't even know where to start. I don't know what I'm supposed to tell you. I mean, you've been watching me from up there all these years, haven't you? So, what's the point in telling you how my year's been when you already know?"

Rubbing his temples, he tried to think of things to say. "Um, well, I guess…" A heavy sigh escaped his lips. How on earth was he supposed to do this…

"Dick."

He had already known she was there, so he didn't even look up. A soft crunch in the grass behind him was the only thing that had betrayed his visitor's presence beforehand. "You know, you don't have to come with me every year, Babs," he croaked out, voice cracking from the cold; at least, that's what he told himself it was from, "You really should be sleeping."

He could practically hear the roll of her eyes as Barbara Gordon walked up next to him. "Oh, _I'm_ the one who should be sleeping?" she replied with a dry laugh, but her voice softened up again, "I know you've been up all night again."

"So? Nothing new there," he tried joking, though his tone fell too flat to fool anyone, "We _are_ the night, remember?"

"Yes, but despite what people say, even the Knight has to sleep sometimes," she played along with a soft laugh. There was a silence between them for a few minutes, until she spoke up again. "I do, you know."

"'You do' what?" Dick asked without giving it much thought, still staring at the gravestone in front of him. He heard her kneel down beside him, the grass crunching under her weight as she shifted her knees. She pressed against him slightly, and he could feel her body heat warm its way through his jacket.

"I _do_ have to come here with you every year." Soft skin brushed against him as her hand gently closed around his. "No matter how much you complain about it."

Dick gasped slightly at her touch. "Babs, you're hands are _freezing_."

Finally dragging his eyes away from the gravestone, he looked over at the girl situated next to him. Despite the warm smile she gave him, she was obviously worn thin. Even through the darkness, he could tell that her clear blue eyes were hazed over from exhaustion and her lids drooped as if she were fighting to keep them open. A rosy hue colored her frost-bitten cheeks, and her mop of scarlet hair looked completely wind-tossed.

"Were you out here waiting for me?" he asked a bit incredulously.

Barbara rolled her eyes as if he had asked a ridiculous question. "Of course. You always change up what time you come, but it's always before sunrise. So I just waited here all night. Figured you'd come around eventually."

Dick frowned at this bit of news. "You waited _all night_? Babsy, you shouldn't have done that! Look at you, you'll probably get sick now!"

The red-head sighed at his ignorance. "_Wowww_. For being the first protégé of the World's Greatest Detective, you sure don't catch on fast," she stated matter-of-factly. Her thumb brushed against the back of his hand, and the chill of her touch sent a small shiver down his spine. "Of course I'm going to get sick. Why do think I _always_ end up with a cold the day after the anniversary of your parents' death?"

Dick blinked at her, his face unreadable as he took a moment to process her words. "You… you've waited out in the freezing cold all night _every single year_? Just so… you could be with me?"

She gave him another soft smile. "_Now_ you're getting it," she laughed, "And it only took you three whole years."

The Boy Wonder just gaped at her. "Babs! Are you stupid!" he exclaimed, gawking at his smirking partner. Was she _really_ that stupid? Staying out all night, just waiting for him, knowing that she'd suffer the consequences for the next few days of sneezing and coughing. Not to mention the fact that she's already pushing her body to the limit every night under the guise of Batgirl. "You shouldn't be putting this extra stress on yourself," he scolded her, his brow furrowing. "Besides, I come out here this early every year for a _reason_; I don't want anyone else to see me—" he caught himself mid-sentence, clearing his throat awkwardly before correcting himself, "I, uh, don't _need_ anyone to… to waste their time pitying me. I mean, look at me, I'm fine!" He forced a grin onto his face, a faux emotion that he had practiced for years. "But, um, everyone seems to think that I'm still upset or… find this awkward or someth—"

His words hitched in his throat as he felt her body slide as close to his own as possible. Her breath tickled his cheek as she rested her head against his. The unclothed hand that had simply rested on his own frozen one had snaked its way under his arm and interlocked her fingers with his, allowing her to snuggle in even closer. It was as if their bodies had melded together; her heartbeat resonating through his body as clearly as if it were his.

"No, Dickie. You're wrong," she whispered firmly, wrapping the fingers of her free hand around his upper-forearm, "This is the time when you need someone there with you the most."

"Babs, I'm a big boy now. I don't need you to hold my hand through these 'hard times'. I can handle this just fine by mysel—"

"It's not just for _your_ peace of mind, Dick," he heard her interrupt, her voice muffled by the cloth of his jacket as she buried her face in the crook of his neck.

"What…what do you mean?" His voice caught in his throat for a moment as she managed to move even closer to him.

"I'm worried about you. I just… I can't let go of your hand just yet."

"I'm scared of losing you," she admitted, "I'm afraid that if I let you come up here to brood alone in front of your parents' grave, if I let this hand slip from my grasp even for just a little bit, that you'll slowly slip away… just like…"

"Just like Bruce?" he finished for her, staring down at their intertwined fingers. He felt her head bob up and down, which he assumed was a nod.

"When Bruce's parents died, he allowed a part of himself to die with them. He devoted his life, his entire _being_, to seeking vengeance and proper justice. It's why he became Batman in the first place. And he's done wonders for the city, but… it's slowly devouring him. He doesn't even see it, but one day, even _he_ won't be able to deny what this job has cost him." She paused for a moment, but Dick remained silent; he knew she wasn't done yet. "His rage and devotion drive him to give one hundred percent of his efforts to being the Dark Knight, but to do that, he's had to toss aside every opportunity at a normal life. He has us, and Alfred, and Selina, and even the entire League, but he'll forever _feel_ alone, as if there's some empty void he can't seem to fill. And… and I just can't bear to see that happen to you too." She lifted her head up to look him in the eye, her own blue eyes filled with concern. "I just want you to understand that you _aren't _alone, even if it feels like it. You have Wally, and Kaldur and Roy, and the rest of that team of yours… and… and you have _me_. And I will always be here for you."

A silence stretched between them as they simply stared into each other's eyes for a good couple of minutes. Eventually, Dick gave a small smile and leaned his forehead against hers. "I know," he whispered quietly, and after another minute or so of comfortable silence he finished their conversation with a simple phrase. "Thank you, Barbara," he told her with a soft squeeze of her hand, "Really. Thank you."

She smiled up at him, and with a small sigh of relief and resolution, she pushed herself to her feet and brushed off her knees.

"Come on, Dickie-bird," she addressed him with an outstretched hand, her damp hair falling from her shoulders in damp locks, and her blue eyes glowing with the warmth that Dick had thrived on for all these years. "Selina promised to make us pancakes for breakfast," she giggled softly, "Since everyone knows that pancakes are the _one thing_ Alfred sucks at making."

"No kidding," Dick chuckled in agreement, accepting the hand and pulling himself to his feet. Interlocking fingers again, the two sidekicks began their slow decent towards the cemetery gate. Allowing Barbara's deliberately slow stride to lead him in the right direction, Dick took a deep breath and shut his eyes…

_Hey Mom. Hey Dad. I'm gonna go ahead and give this talking thing another shot. I guess since you're always watching, you know what's _happened_ for the past year, but you don't know how I'm _feeling_ about what's happened. So, I'll start from the beginning; I have a great family. Bruce might not be a very conventional caregiver, but his 'parenting methods' have always been exactly what I needed from an adopted father. I don't regret becoming Robin, although sometimes it feels like my hero career is sucking the life out of me. And Alfred… well, what can I say? I don't think neither me nor Bruce would've ever survived for this long without him, even _if_ his pancakes taste like sawdust drenched in syrup. But…_

Dick mentally paused as he slowly opened his eyes to look at his companion. Either she took no notice of his glance or she pretended not to, because she simply continued their slow walk across the damp grass apparently unaware of his gaze.

_But the most influential person in my life is this girl right here,_ Dick smiled slightly as he watched her. _Not only is she the only girl who'd willingly jump off a skyscraper with me, but she jumps off of buildings all night, every night. She's my partner, my best friend, and… and she's precious to me. She's been there for me from the very beginning, serving as my support beam and shining beacon. And although my other friends and 'house mates' have helped me heal from that horrible day you were taken from me… I don't think I would have ever truly recovered if it wasn't for Barbara._

Barbara finally noticed him watching her just as they reached the front gate of the cemetery. She stopped for a moment turned her head to look at him quizzically. "What's with the goofy grin, bird brain?" she mocked light-heartedly.

But instead of answering, Dick decided to just follow his gut for once, and he leaned in close and kissed her lightly on the cheek. He pulled away slowly, but couldn't help but laugh lightly when he saw the dumbfounded look still plastered on her face.

"Wha—what was that about?" she giggled shyly, a light blush coloring her already-rosy cheeks.

"Ha! For being the second protégé of the World's Greatest Detective, you sure don't catch on fast," he teased, his trademark grin worming its way back onto his features for the first time in twenty-four hours. "Don't worry," he continued with a snicker, "Maybe you'll understand in three or four years."

Still gripping her hand tightly, Dick turned his attention from the glaring girl to the silhouette of his parent's grave, now just a dark shadow against the ever-brightening background of the early sunrise.

_I'll tell her exactly how I feel about her later,_ Dick decided, _But… I just thought I should explain it to you guys first. Love you, Mom; love you, Dad. And I miss you so much. But…_ He looked back at Barbara once more. _I think the future's lookin' pretty bright now. So don't worry about me. Let's just hope that next year when me and Barbara come to visit you, I'll be able to introduce her as my girlfriend. Out loud. And without getting punched for it._ He chuckled to himself at that last thought, and he could see Barbara giving him another questioning look. He turned back to look at the gravestone one last time. _I won't dwell on your deaths. It still haunts me, yes, but with Barbara, I can move on, even if Bruce couldn't. So, this is goodbye for now._ "Bye, Mom. Bye, Dad," he said out loud, "Love you."

He turned away, and with a firm grip on Barbara's hand, walked out of the graveyard, determined not to ever look back and to just keep moving forward. Because Dick knew that as long as Barbara kept holding on, he would never slip away; because his hand would forever and always belong intertwined with hers. And he wouldn't want it any other way.

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**A/N: **And that's it :) I'm sorry if it seemed rushed or if there were a lot of grammatical errors. I made you guys wait long enough and I just wanted to get this out there for you :) And now I have more time to finish the next chapter of _Long Nights_, which should be out soon! So don't forget to fave if you liked it, and reviews are always appreciated :D And be sure to check out my other fanfics! See ya!


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